I Don't Dance
by Illusion of Insanity
Summary: He may have snuck into this little ballroom, but he wasn't dancing. In fact, he was sitting at a table and watching as the couples danced, including a certain duo he knew even with their masks. No, Silver wasn't going to dance...but he didn't expect a stranger to try to convince him otherwise. (SoulSilver)


**Full Summary:**

**He may have snuck into this little ballroom, but he wasn't dancing. In fact, he was sitting at a table and watching as the couples danced, including a certain duo he knew even with their masks. No, Silver wasn't going to dance...but he didn't expect a stranger to try to convince him otherwise. (SoulSilver) Drama/Romance**

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The hall was filled with many individuals donning all sorts of colors, spinning like tops as they slowly migrated along the marble floor in a clockwise motion, the strains of music echoing off of the high ceilings and becoming a deafening roar that drowned out nearly all conversation. The atmosphere was a pleasant one, filled with smiles and laughter as couples danced elegantly in their evening ballgowns and their dignified tuxedos.

Sure, a masquerade ball may seem old-fashioned, but to these high-society members, it was just another chance to enjoy their evening.

On the edge of all the joy and laughter sat a single individual, a redhead teen wearing a expensive suit that didn't quite fit right. He just watched on as the couples continued to dance, twisting a goblet of punch and coaxing the red liquid into its own dance.

His metallic eyes never left a certain couple as they danced across the room, the duo so familiar to him that even behind their masks, he could recognize their faces. Envy and guilt swirled within himself as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the girl in the sapphire-blue gown, but no. His namesake orbs watched every twist and spin as they continued to seemingly float across the room, her dress' skirt blooming at her ankles with every turn and swirling around her faster than a whirlpool.

Oh, how he wished she was _his_ partner!

But, he had learned his lesson. He wasn't about to smack that Beedrill's nest again and summon the wrath of her dancing partner. The boy with black locks seemed to sense the redhead's gaze, for he shot a furious look at the white comedy mask that had seemingly broken the dress code for this important event. Another stab of regret hit the boy's heart as he ripped his eyes away, instead focusing on the swirling whirlpool within his glass.

He hated this place. He could pretend all he wanted, but every bit of his being was screaming for him to leave this hall and flee into the dark embrace of night. He had no idea why he had come here in the first place, what with the events of his previous visit and the crucial fact that he wasn't actually invited to this gathering.

But, the truth was right in front of his eyes. He came because _she_ was here, no other reason would suffice for his partycrashing.

"Can't find a partner?"

His gaze slowly drifted to a girl in a midnight blue gown, the brunette wearing a tragedy mask upon her face instead of the traditional domino mask. He scoffed behind the shelter of his own drama mask and snapped his attention back to his glass.

"I don't want one."

"Well," He quickly glanced back up to find her pulling out the chair across the table and sitting down with a sharp exhale. "I wasn't looking for one anyway."

He raised an eyebrow as she leaned back into the solid support of the wooden chair's back. "Then why the heck did you ask me?"

She just let out a small chuckle and shook her head. "So that if you happened to need one, I could promptly leave this area before you asked me."

He chuckled at her strange logic and returned his eyes to the dancing couples. "Odd way to start a conversation."

"True," He could distinctly hear a sharp breath, followed by a creak of wood as the chair leaned backwards. "But it worked."

He stopped twirling his glass for a moment and realized with slight amusement that she was right; he had actually responded to her prompt, thereby engaging in conversation with a stranger.

He must have had more glasses of punch than he thought. His tongue was getting far looser than usual.

"So, why is a young fellow such as yourself just sitting here and downing punch, eh?" He looked back to his left to find the girl leaning back in her chair with her legs crossed and her hands behind her head. From the way she was acting, it was apparent that she wasn't a usual in this place. "Shouldn't you be out there, dancing with some pretty girl?"

"I don't dance." The words came out fast and monotone, almost as if he had been practicing those three little words for hours as he sat alone in this corner of the room.

The girl simply laughed and removed her left hand to brush a stray piece of hair away from her mask's eyehole. "You don't dance? Or is it simply that you can't dance without your partner?"

A wry smile formed below the white surface of his mask as her words hit home. Ah, for being a stranger, she could certainly guess well. She took his silence as a confirmation and continued, "I'm the same way. Dancing isn't something you do with just anyone, you only dance with your special partner."

His smile quickly dropped as her words seemed to stab him with a second thrust of the knife, increasing the wound within his chest. He gently placed his glass on the table and resorted to lacing his fingers together. He then lowered his hands into his lap and turned his gaze to his right, choosing to stare at a marble column instead of this talkative interruption.

"That's her, isn't it?" He ignored her question and continued to stare at the swirls in the cold stone, admiring how the pattern seemed to flow on forever in an unbroken fashion. "The one with the pearls around her neck," The girl pressed on, insisting on her observation. "The brunette in the deep-blue."

"She's not my partner." The words felt rough as he forced them out of his mouth, almost as if it was a lie. No, he was telling the truth this time. That girl was someone else's partner, not his.

No matter how much he wished she was, he had lost his chance.

The stranger simply clicked her tongue and lowered her chair's suspended legs back to the black stone below her seat. "Your gaze claims otherwise, you know."

"You're very nosy for someone who just invited themself over here."

"True," She smiled under her mask's frown and brushed another lock of hair behind her ear. "But you're pretty lonesome for someone who's crashed a party."

His gaze casually drifted back to her mask, trying to hide his shock behind that etched smile and his slow movements. The brunette noticed this and just laughed at him once again, sensing that invisible wall that he had thrown up with that sudden hike of his shoulders and stiffening of his neck.

"So, what's the story, red?" He raised an eyebrow as she turned towards him slightly in her seat, shifting her crossed legs so that the bottom limb had a chance to be the one above the other. "Every lonely boy has one, you included."

"There's no story." He narrowed his eyes as he detected the faintest glimpse of a smirk under that carved frown. "She's not my partner."

"She _was_ your partner once, though. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so fixated on her."

He silently decided that this was the last time he slipped into _any_ event, for if there were any others like this girl, he would surely die of harbored frustration. His cold eyes focused on those shrouded eyeholes on her mask and found to his confusion that there wasn't a single trace of mockery in those blue orbs, just curiosity. He shook his head before looking back at the dancers.

"...She's his partner. Not mine."

"You keep repeating that so often, redhead." Her eyes narrowed in thought before they widened with realization. Her smirk shifted into a smile of genuine amusement as she tucked yet another piece of hair behind her ear.

"You stole his dancing partner, didn't you?"

The redhead winced behind his fortress of plastic and found himself drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. The girl let her smile grow wider for an instant in self-satisfaction at her discovery before she dropped the grin for a flat line of thought.

"Might as well spill, lonesome. Otherwise I'll just dig deeper for it as I have been for the past half hour."

He released his captive air and ran a hand through his scarlet locks, feeling frustrated and infuriated by this stranger's bold attitude and her keen senses. He jerked his head back towards her and decided that he might as well spit out some explanation and spare himself the trouble of her guessing games.

"I took my best friend's dancing partner from him so I could have her to myself, and he eventually found out about our little ballroom affair. She's not mine, and she'll never be mine." The words only increased the pain in his chest, transforming the stabbing into a yank and a twist of his heartstrings instead.

The brunette stranger didn't talk for a while. She simply turned her attention to the girl in the ocean-like gown and watched as her partner lead her into spin after spin, smiling with hidden eyes. The girl reached up for a moment and adjusted her Dragonair-shaped mask with a smile, never missing a single step.

The girl had to hand it to the redhead, he could tell a gem when he saw one. If their roles were reversed, she was pretty sure that she would risk that herself if it meant dancing with such a partner.

"She's lovely." The stranger concluded this with a nod and decided to twirl that pesky strand around her index finger instead of constantly tucking it behind her ear. "She's quite the dancer, too. Although, she seems a little out of it tonight."

"What you talking about?" He glanced back to find the girl in the midnight-colored gown simply resting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table, a slight spark of defiance in her eyes. "She hasn't missed a single step all night."

"True, but her heart's not in it." He raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head to the side and released a small chuckle. "It looks like you stole a bit more of his dancing partner than you thought."

His metallic eyes burst to their full width at her accusation, forcing him to turn away with a hiss. She _had_ to be mistaken, that beautiful brunette belonged to the boy on the dancefloor, not him. There was no way that she actually considered him anything more than just a simple switch in her routine.

But...thinking back on that blissful night, he could clearly see the way her warm hazels had shimmered in the light of that crystal chandelier, never leaving his own for a single heartbeat of their secret betrayal.

Could that shimmer have been _more_ than just the candlelight?

"...Impossible." He let the rejection slip off his tongue before his mind could finish its treacherous thought. "It was simply a simple switch of partners, nothing more. We only danced together for one night, while they've been dancing together ever since they were first learning _how_ to dance."

The girl simply laughed a hollow chuckle and swept her head sadly from side-to-side. "You said so yourself, you can't dance without your special partner."

"I never said that." He countered her bold claim, trying to quell her curiosity before he himself started to believe her. "You were the one who said that."

"True again, redhead." She stopped twirling that single lock of hair before pulling on the new curl with a smirk. "But you never denied it, either."

Checkmate.

He just stayed quiet for a while, brooding over what she had told him. The way she continued to pry at his connection to the dancing duo almost seemed as if she was trying to coax him into something. Then, it hit him.

He smirked alongside his mask's grin, for once mimicking his chosen covering instead of countering it. "You're quite the clever little pest, aren't you?"

She let out a self-satisfied chuckle and lifted her chin from her hand. "Why thank you, kind sir. I'm flattered by your compliment."

He then slowly rose from his seat for the first time that night, feeling his back scream out in the sudden change of posture. He gave the girl a nod of farewell—which she calmly returned with a final tucking of that pesky curl behind her left ear—and headed towards the organized chaos of the dancefloor.

Realizing he had neglected to verbally thank the girl for her advice about halfway to the swarm of twirling skirts, he turned back towards the table only to find the girl mysteriously nowhere to be found.

The only sign that she had ever been there was a single tragedy mask on her seat, the mask resting upside-down as to mimic his own mask's grin.

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**Author's Note: Hey there! This is just a three-shot I was inspired to make after listening to a rock-and-roll version of a song I really like, _"Careless Whisper"_ which was originally by _George Michael_. So, the basic plot was inspired by the song itself—which here translates to Silver stealing Ethan's dancing partner for himself (Lyra) but regretting his actions after losing Ethan's—and also Lyra's—friendship. I'm not making this a song-fic, though. This is going to be its own little fic that's just based off of that little song.**

**About the story, it seems that someone wants to see little Silver go talk to Lyra! Who's the little instigator, you ask? Well, I gave quite a few vague hints with her wearing a mask similar to Silver's, and mentioning her eye and hair color. But, if you're unsure, I'll be honest and say that the girl is none other than _Blue_ from _Pokémon Special_! I just see her as someone who would want to see Silver happy—since in my headcanons she's like an older sister towards Silver.**

**Oh, and I'm kinda late on the cover...Oops. I'll be posting the cover as soon as it's finished—I'm currently finishing the color and shading.**


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